


Loverboy

by louromy



Category: Baby Driver (2017), Dirty Dancing (1987)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dancing, Light BDSM, M/M, Minor Violence, Trans Baby, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25903732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louromy/pseuds/louromy
Summary: After Baby gets made in Atlanta, Doc transfers him up to the resort he runs in the Catskills.
Relationships: Baby | Miles/Buddy | Jason van Horn
Kudos: 69





	Loverboy

**Author's Note:**

> came to my attention that i haven't heard of a single baby driver/dirty dancing fic, which is a Sin
> 
> nothing from these movie belongs to me, but mistakes are my own

Baby prefers Atlanta.

The Catskills are nice, and he’s never truly been out of Georgia before, but he prefers Atlanta. Doc’s resort is too small, too slow. Maybe if the man had put him in an actual city somewhere, like _New York_ New York, Baby wouldn’t be so bored, but as it is he’s the kind of restless that gets him into trouble.

“Baby, are you with me?”

Doc’s voice cuts through Baby’s music, and he turns his eyes up to look at the man. Baby nods, so Doc tosses a set of keys at him. His days of racing through the streets of his hometown had ended the day he’d run into Joe’s doctor on the job. One flash of recognition and Baby was on a flight headed north. He’d barely even gotten to say goodbye to Joe, and now his days have been flipped from the literal thrill of the chase to the subdued excitement of valet and chauffeur. Doc said it was temporary, of course, just long enough for things to blow over in Atlanta, but after three weeks Baby’s starting to grow weary.

Baby pockets the keys and heads for the lot to rearrange the parking job some new kid had done the previous night. Outside, Baby dances as he goes, mouthing along to “Harlem Shuffle”. He nearly bowls over Mrs. Schumacher and pretends to tip his hat as he goes past. He’s pretty sure he’s seen her steal someone’s wallet before, but he figures that with what he’s done he can’t really be one to judge. Anyhow, she’s a sweet old lady and sometimes she slips him one of those hard candies that old people always seem to carry.

The heat is stifling out on the blacktop, and by the time Baby has finished moving the cars his shirt is soaked in sweat and sticking to his binder. He plucks at it absentmindedly as he wanders down toward the lawn outside the main building, hoping for a little shade or an empty spot on the bank. It’s early afternoon and the residents are swarming over the grass, squawking and laughing and dancing. Baby usually avoids the guests at all costs, but he braves the crowds for a few minutes so he can people-watch.

Down by the water, Darling leads a collection of older folks through some bunny-hop dance, somehow making movements that dumb look elegant. Buddy stands nearby, gesturing angrily at something while he argues with one of Doc’s crew. Baby observes him from behind his shades, watching the way he slicks his hair back and rolls his eyes.

Buddy and Darling –– Baby _knows_ about Buddy and Darling. They’re infamous among Doc’s outfit –– his very own Bonnie and Clyde –– and they’ve been responsible for some of the man’s greatest hauls. Baby’s not alone in working for Doc twofold, legitimately by day and criminally by night, and he supposes that Buddy and Darling’s dancing is as good a cover for their reason to be at the resort as any. And truly, they dance like nothing Baby’s ever seen.

He remembers his first night there, the way the two had stolen the floor at dinner, taking the center of the room like they were the only ones who could. Baby hadn’t known their names then, only that he could have watched them dance for hours. Darling’s hair tumbled and flew with each turn, her smile lighting up anyone who saw it. She wore a pink dress that night, and Buddy had that cropped suit jacket of his. And Buddy –– Buddy danced like he was made to, all hips and arms and shoulders. His smile wasn’t brilliant like Darling’s, but something more sultry, passionate. Something that drew Baby’s attention like nothing else at the resort.

Baby watches him now, too, as Buddy snaps out something harsh before stalking away from the other man. He passes by Baby and their eyes meet, just long enough for Baby to see the level of emotion he did that night, his eyes alive with feeling and energy. Buddy looks away first, leaving Baby to wonder what it would feel like to be pinned by that gaze again.

Baby is walking by the resort’s diner when he hears someone singing, voice high and clear and beautiful, spilling out through the open patio doors. He doubles back and sticks his head in, listening intently. There’s a woman inside, about his age, with blonde hair tied up in a knot on her head. She sings as she wipes down the counter, her back to him, so Baby scuffs one of his shoes on the floor as he comes over.

“Hi there,” she says, smiling. “Take a seat, I’ll get you a menu.” Baby sits down at the counter near the register, and she slides a laminated menu over to him.

“What’s that song you’re singing?” He asks. She looks over at him from down the bar.

“You don’t know that one? It’s Carla Thomas. ‘B-A-B-Y.’”

He smiles a little. “I like it.”

“Me too. I’m Debora, by the way. Just started here a few days ago. Do you work at the resort too?” Baby nods. “I thought so,” she says. “Seems all the guests here are at least thirty years my senior –– except for their bratty kids. What do you do?”

“I’m a driver.”

“Okay, driver, you got a name?”

“Baby.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Baby? Your name is Baby?”

“B-A-B-Y Baby,” he says, his mouth twisting up into a little grin. Debora laughs at him.

“Alright, Baby. Where’re you from? You sound like you’re from home.”

“Home?”

“Georgia.”

His smile widens.

“You’re kidding,” she says. He shakes his head. “Well, what in God’s name brought you up here?”

Baby shrugs. “Work,” he says. “You?”

“Love.” Baby raises an eyebrow teasingly, and she rolls her eyes at him. “My girlfriend’s a ski instructor at one of the lodges near here –– camping and water sports in the summer. We met in New Mexico before we came up here. Back in Georgia I used to say, ‘All I wanna do is head West on 20 in a car I can’t afford with a plan I don’t have. Just me, my music, and the road.’ And so one day I just did.” Debora shrugs. “Blew everything I had on this cute little car and drove until I found a reason to stop, and that reason was an adrenaline junkie with pretty brown hair and excellent taste in music.”

“That sounds perfect,” Baby says.

“It was. What about you, any grand love stories of your own?”

Baby shifts his shoulders a bit. “No, no love stories.”

“Do you want one?”

Baby thinks about it. “I guess I do. Not much room for it, though, in my line of work.”

“Oh, yeah?” Debora teases. “Driving around these rich old white people doesn’t leave you any time for fun?”

“Not time, so much as… selection.”

“Well, Baby, you just never know, do you?”

On Friday, Baby wanders the grounds of the resort, turning the other way when he runs into guests or staff. There isn’t any work to be done, and he’s not even sure Doc is on the premises, so he keeps busy not doing anything. When Baby finds himself at the little bridge that leads to the staff quarters, he sees Griff struggling with a triad of watermelons. He jogs over to the man and raises his eyebrows in question.

“’S for the party,” Griff says, nodding at one of the houses up the hill. Baby just looks at him blankly, so Griff huffs. “Seriously, kid? How long you been here?”

“Few weeks.”

Griff snorts. “Guess no one’s had the balls to go after the Doc’s Baby, now have they?” The man grins at him, but Baby frowns. He hates it when people call him that. He snatches one of the watermelons out from Griff’s arms and gestures for him to lead the way. Griff rolls his eyes but starts up the stairs anyway. When they get to the door, Baby can hear the music pounding from inside and pauses his own. Griff looks at him pointedly.

“Goes without sayin’ and all,” he says, voice low. “But not a word of this to the boss, hear?” Baby nods once, and then Griff’s back is against the door and pressing it open, walking in backward. Baby follows him inside, brows raising as he goes.

Clubs have never been Baby’s scene –– too loud, too public, too dark –– but he’s always imagined the good ones to be something like this. All kinds of bodies dance together, sliding and jumping and moving. There’s plenty of dancing at the resort, but it’s all tame compared to this. And straight, Baby thinks. There isn’t exactly a thriving queer scene in the middle of the mountains, but this party would have him believing otherwise. Butch, femme, drag, twink –– he walks through a sea of rolled sleeves and buzzed hair, high heels and eyeliner, all here and dancing like the only sex to be had is out on the floor.

Baby follows Griff through the bodies until they get to the back of the room. After he deposits his watermelon onto the table, Baby stands awkwardly at the edge of the crowd, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. The brashness he had initially felt is gone, and with the music and people pushing his senses toward their limit, he starts to regret following Griff at all.

But then the door opens, and from across the room he sees Buddy and Darling sweep in. They look different than Baby’s ever seen them before, with Darling in a fuzzy pink jacket and tight bluejeans instead of some brilliant dress. Baby’s eyes don’t linger on her, though, as it’s Buddy who really captures his attention. The man normally wears some kind of suit, whether performing or attending one of the few of Doc’s meetings that Baby’s been at. Now he’s dressed a little like some queer greaser from the ’50s, with tight black pants and a white t-shirt, the sleeves cuffed and straining against his arms.

Buddy and Darling are greeted by many of the partygoers, all smiles and casual touches, before they melt into a dance of their own, unlike what Baby’s seen them do before. Buddy leads Darling into something slick and dirty, the two practically melding into one with how close they are. Baby’s mouth goes dry watching them, and his throat clicks when he swallows.

“They’re really somethin’, ain’t they?” Griff says, startling Baby. He had almost forgotten the man was there. Baby nods, glancing to see him lean back against the table and cross his arms. “You’d think they were together,” Griff continues, “With the way they act.” Baby nods again, watching as Buddy runs his hands up Darling’s sides. Then he processes what Griff actually said and frowns at him.

“They’re not?”

Griff shakes his head. “Not since I’ve known ’em. Used to be, or somethin’, but now they’re just friends. Good on a job, though. ’M sure Doc’ll set you up together eventually.” Baby doesn’t respond to this, instead going back to watching the pair dance.

After a few songs, the two make their way over to Baby. Or rather, they make their way over to Griff, but Baby’s heart jumps all the same. He keeps his head down as the three chat, feeling out of place. Then there’s the prickle of someone watching him, and when he looks up over the tops of his sunglasses he sees Buddy looking right back, his eyes piercing and dark. It’s the same intensity from a few days ago, and it leaves Baby flushed and hoping the dim party lights keep from giving him away.

“What’s with the kid?” Darling asks, drawing Baby’s attention back to their conversation. She pulls her hair up into a knot on top of her head and sticks a lollipop in her mouth. Griff shrugs, so Baby opens his mouth.

“I carried a watermelon,” he says. Griff laughs at him, but Darling just smiles.

“Cute _and_ helpful,” she says. Then she considers him. “You know, I don’t think I’ve heard you say more than two whole words before, Baby.”

“Don’t you know why they call him that? Still waiting on his first words.” Griff smirks at him and tries to ruffle his hair, but Baby ducks out of reach. He tries to give him a withering look, but he’s pretty sure it just comes out as a frown.

“That true, Baby?” Buddy asks, his voice low. His arm is slung around Darling’s shoulders and Baby can see the sweat on his neck. When he doesn’t respond, Darling laughs.

“Alright, baby love,” she says. “Can’t say I don’t admire a man of few words. Unlike my Buddy, here, who just loves to hear himself talk.” She strokes a hand up Buddy’s chest, teasing him. “I’m beat, though,” Darling continues. “Buddy, give the kid a spin, will you? Looks like he could use it.”

Baby’s heart ratchets up and his eyes widen. He opens his mouth to decline, but Buddy’s already taking Baby by the hand and pulling him out onto the floor. Baby follows, only stumbling once, and then Buddy’s holding their hands up and together. He places Baby’s other hand on his shoulder, quickly reminding him of how short he is. For once, though, he’s not mad about it, not when it’s Buddy who towers over him.

“It’s easy, kid, just mirror what I do.” Buddy starts to lead, moving them back and forth. The beat of the song is quick, something Baby would normally like, but he finds himself stepping on Buddy’s toes more often than not. Buddy chuckles at him.

“You’re pretty bad at this,” he says, leaning in to murmur next to Baby’s ear. The music’s loud enough to drown out the ringing, but he hears him perfectly fine, voice low and deep. Baby doesn’t have a response to that, so he doesn’t say anything. When the song changes to something bassier, Buddy changes tactics. He puts Baby’s hands around his neck and moves his own to hold Baby’s waist. He leads Baby with his hips, moving them in ways that make him glad to not have to worry about awkward boners.

Buddy presses close again, his mouth at Baby’s temple. “I’m curious about the whole shades on indoors thing. You don’t really seem the type, if I’m being honest.”

“It’s… a sensory thing,” Baby says. “Keeps my brain quiet.”

“Got a lot going on in there?”

“I guess.”

“Is that what the earbuds are for, too?”

Baby nods but stays quiet, instead concentrating on his feet. He really is royally bad at this, but Buddy doesn’t seem to mind. The man doesn’t say anything else, instead leading him into another dance as the song changes. Baby’s not sure where to go from here, so he just keeps dancing.

While Doc talks, Baby rounds the table and places coffees in front of people. The man’s discussing some upcoming job about moving some merchandise through the resort, something to do with a post office they recently robbed. He’s not really sure why Doc has him at these meetings in the first place, given that he never sends Baby out on a job. Especially since the job in question is happening _at_ the resort. What’s the point of having a driver if there aren’t any cars?

Baby takes his seat at the far end of the table and starts playing air piano along to his music. His mind wanders to Buddy, who had accepted his coffee without a glance. The man looks straight ahead at Doc, seemingly concentrating. Baby had seen him a few times in passing since the party, but had gotten nothing beyond a brief nod of acknowledgement. Darling has chatted with him a few times, though. She seems to genuinely like him, which is not a feeling Baby’s used to.

The morning after the party Baby had admitted, somewhat gushingly, to Debora about dancing with Buddy. She had teased him about his crush on the man, but Baby knew she was pleased for him. It isn’t that he really expects anything else to happen, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it.

Baby’s thoughts are interrupted when everyone in the room turns toward him, expectant. He turns his music up and presses his lips together, waiting. He normally pays attention, but not nearly so well as Doc thinks he does. His tight-lippedness is usually cover enough, especially since people tend to repeat themselves, as Griff does now.

“I mean,” the man says, crossing his arms, “The kid’s gotta have _some_ kinda rhythm, right? Listenin’ to all that music all the time.”

Baby frowns and looks at Doc, who just looks thoughtful.

“That’s… not half bad,” he says. Baby gets a little jump of anxiety, still unclear as to what’s going on, but really not liking the direction it’s heading.

Darling, from where she’s perched on the arm of the couch, chimes in. “Buddy can lead anyone,” she says. “It wouldn’t even take long to learn, it’s just the one dance.” Buddy must say something to her, because she frowns and her eyes flit to Baby and back, but with Buddy’s back turned he can’t read his lips.

“How about it, Baby?” Doc says. “Think you can fill Darling’s shoes for one night?” Any doubts Baby had about the topic at hand disappear, and a small burst of adrenaline shoots through him.

“I can’t dance,” he says, shaking his head.

“You dance all the time, Baby, I’ve seen it,” Griff points out.

“I’m a driver,” Baby reminds them.

“And this job doesn’t have any roads,” Doc says decisively. “Like it or not, I need two beautiful bastards to put on a truly enthralling performance for the mice.” Baby stands up, ready to argue further, but Doc holds up his hand. “Baby, it’s decided. You’re filling in for Darling. Buddy, I want him ready and I want him perfect. This job goes sideways and we’ll be glad for the distraction.”

Doc begins to clean the blackboard, signalling the end of the meeting. Griff claps Baby on the back and wishes him luck before disappearing out the door. Baby looks over at Buddy, who looks back flatly. His eyes are so different from the party, from the day at the water. Today they seem to barely see him.

“Tomorrow at eight,” Buddy says, getting up from his chair. “In the practice room.” His eyes roam over Baby’s body briefly, and he opens his mouth as if to say more, but thinks better of it. Instead he just leaves with Darling in his wake, and Baby resigns himself to disappointment.

“I just don’t see what the problem is,” Debora says, shrugging. She kicks her feet in the stream, leaning back on her hands. Baby frowns from where he’s slumped over a low-hanging branch. He’s been practicing with Buddy for two days already and the man’s barely said more than a few words to him. He corrects Baby’s form, he compliments him when he does well, but aside from that he’s as quiet as Baby is. The look from the party is consistently absent, and Baby’s beginning to think it was a once-off.

“I mean,” Debora continues, “This is just like Dirty Dancing. You’re Baby, of course, which makes Buddy Johnny Castle.”

Baby thinks about it. “Buddy is better looking than Patrick Swayze.” Debora laughs.

“All the better, then. Do you just not like that nothing might happen?”

“What I don’t like is that I don’t know what changed. At the party I could see the feeling in his eyes, like he was _there_ , but now he looks at me like he works at the DMV.” Baby’s never actually been to the DMV before, but he hears people complain about it enough that the sentiment feels right. He rests his chin on his arms, content to mope for a while, but Debora jumps to her feet and extends a hand.

“Come on. I’ll practice with you.”

Baby looks at her over the tops of his shades. “You can dance?”

She tosses her hair and throws her shoulders back. “Sure I can. Here, I’ll lead so you can practice. Buddy won’t know what hit him.” Debora smiles and wiggles her fingers at him, so Baby relents.

“We don’t have any music,” he points out.

“You do. We can share.” Debora takes one of Baby’s earbuds and pops it into her own ear, then snags his iPod to pick a song.

“There,” she says, “To fit the theme.” Baby hears the opening notes to Merry Clayton’s “Yes” and smiles despite himself.

They get into position, connected by hand and cord, and Debora begins to lead. Maybe it’s because it’s Deb, and she doesn’t make him nervous, but Baby dances perfectly. Before long he’s actually enjoying himself, even leading Debora a bit and making them both laugh. He feels like himself in a way he doesn’t normally, and he wishes it was like this when he dances with Buddy.

They dance for a few more songs until Debora trips backwards into the stream and soaks herself. Baby barely has time to cast his iPod aside before she’s tugging him in after her.

The rain comes down in sheets a few days later. They’ve thrown open all the windows to let out some of the heat, but it’s still muggy inside. Baby feels tacky and gross under his binder. Buddy’s no better, having stripped down to just his pants. This way Baby can see the sweat beading on his chest, which almost makes up for the void of a conversation partner that he is.

“Arms up, Baby,” the man says, jostling him gently. Baby grits his teeth and stiffens his arms, trying to keep pace. Even after nearly a week of practice, Baby doesn’t feel like he can say he’s improving. He’s been dancing around the resort, dancing with Debora, dancing with Darling at his back, guiding him while Buddy leads, but he just doesn’t seem to _get_ it. That day at the stream seems more and more like a fluke. Nothing feels natural like it did then, or before all this. It doesn’t help that Buddy continues to be so distant. He’s superficial in a way that Baby doesn’t get, bland but not fake, not shallow but surface-level.

“Come on, shoulders back,” he says now, and Baby corrects himself. His eyes flick up to Buddy’s face, forgetting somehow that Buddy would be looking back, because he always is. There’s a flash of something, Baby’s not sure what, but it’s enough to make him stumble backwards. Buddy tries to catch him, but they’re so tangled that they both go down.

“Sorry,” Baby says, scooting out of Buddy’s way.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man says, dusting himself off. He reaches for Baby to help him up, but once Baby’s righted he doesn’t let go. Buddy pauses, not pulling away, and raises a single eyebrow in question.

“Why don’t you talk to me?”

“Thought you preferred the silence,” Buddy says. “Isn’t that your whole thing?”

“Isn’t loving to hear yourself talk _your_ whole thing?”

Buddy snorts, the hint of a smile on his face. “You listen to Darling too much.”

“Sometimes she’s the only one talking.”

Buddy looks at him for a long moment, long enough for Baby to remember that they’re still holding hands, so he lets go. Buddy repositions them again and they start to dance.

“You know,” he finally says, “You’re not so chatty yourself.”

“So ask me something.”

Buddy thinks about this. “Alright,” he says. “Why do you always know what someone’s saying even though you’re always listening to music?”

“I can read lips. Griff says you and Darling used to date, why not now?”

Buddy laughs. “ _That’s_ your question? We fell out of love, kid. I married my best friend, and the romance didn’t last.”

Baby nods. “Your turn.”

“What do you want more than anything?”

“Right now or in general?”

“Right now.”

“To be on the road,” Baby says honestly. “Been too long since I’ve been driving.”

Buddy considers that. Then he stops them. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Baby perks up. “Go?”

“For a drive,” Buddy says. “I think we’ve earned a break, haven’t we?” Baby can’t argue with that, so he follows Buddy out into the rain and around the back of the building. Buddy stops in front of a nondescript red Subaru and fishes around in his pocket. He retrieves a pair of keys and tosses them to Baby, who catches them with raised eyebrows.

Buddy shrugs. “You’re the driver, aren’t you?”

Baby can’t help the grin that he gets, unlocking the car and sliding behind the wheel in one smooth motion. The car isn’t anything special, but it’s a manual, and it’s been so long since he’s truly driven that he doesn’t really care about anything else at this point. Before he can even start the engine, though, Buddy puts a light hand on his arm.

“People… talk, you know? And you’ve sort of got this reputation as Doc’s lucky charm, so just, don’t play it safe, alright?” Buddy looks at him meaningfully. “I want to see what you can do.” Baby couldn’t care less about what the others think of him, but Buddy sitting in his passenger seat, wet from the rain and asking him to show off, is enough to set his heart racing.

Baby throws the car in gear and peels out of the lot.

With the skies clearing, Baby floors it once they get onto the highway. He watches the speedometer pass 80 and hears Buddy whoop. Baby starts to grin, the joyride bringing out the Buddy he had come to expect. They drive for a while, flying down the road until Baby rounds a corner that he realizes too late is a speed trap. The sirens start up a moment later and he sees a police cruiser pull into his rearview.

“Shit,” Buddy says, turning around in his seat to look. “I definitely do not have papers for this thing.”

“’S fine, I don’t even have a license,” Baby mutters. He’s granted one surprised look from Buddy before he guns it and the man’s thrown back into his seat. Baby weaves smoothly through the meager traffic, intent on losing the cruiser. Before long he spots a break in the barrier and swings them through it, pulling the e-brake as he does. The car does a perfect 180 to the far side of the highway, leaving the cop car to zoom past on the other side. Buddy cheers and claps Baby on the shoulder, and he brings the car back up to a normal speed.

“Think they got the plates?” Baby asks, glancing over at Buddy, who shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Moving violations are for the driver, not the car. Can’t write you a speeding ticket if they can’t catch you.” The man looks at him with something in his eyes, something… impressed and hungry. It’s a little like what Baby saw that night at the party, and he gets a thrill to be on the receiving end of it again.

After a bit, Baby takes the turnoff to an abandoned factory lot. He cranks the wheel and pulls them into a bootleg turn, causing the car to land perfectly parked in between the side of a warehouse and a stack of old crates. Buddy yells and laughs, pushing his hair back from his face with a wild grin. Baby kills the engine.

“That was some driving, Baby,” Buddy says. “You ever thought about racing?”

“No,” Baby says, shifting his shoulders. “Driving on a track’s not quite so…”

“Exhilarating?”

Baby bobs his head. 

“So you really don’t have a license? No ID? Nothing?”

Baby shakes his head, smiling a little. “Never really needed one. Been driving since long before I was allowed, and now with running jobs… well, not getting pulled over’s kind of the idea, right?”

Buddy hums in agreement. “Makes me wonder why Doc would put you on this anyway. The dancing, I mean.”

“Aren’t I the only one who can? Darling’s the one meeting the buyers because she’s the one with the contact, Ariel can’t fill in because her ankle’s broken, and Griff’s too straight to even consider it.”

Buddy lets out a surprised laugh. “Too straight to function,” he says. Baby looks at him sideways. “What?” Buddy shrugs. “I’ve seen movies.”

“Just don’t expect me to say ‘Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

“Never.” Buddy winks at him, so teasingly that Baby wonders how this is the same man who could have been so terse before. Baby smiles and starts the engine again.

By the time the following afternoon rolls around, Baby is convinced he never actually could dance in the first place. Buddy continues to flirt with him, which is a welcome change, but it doesn’t make Baby any better at finding his rhythm.

“You have to feel it, Baby,” Buddy says softly, “Right here.” He taps over Baby’s heart, making it jump nervously. They’re standing close together, too close for it to be casual and still be standing still.

“I _do_ feel it,” Baby says. “I feel music everywhere, all the time, I just can’t move like I feel it.”

Buddy considers this. Then he pulls back.

“You know what? I’ve got an idea.” He goes to where Baby’s tossed his hoodie and rifles through its pockets until he pulls out three different iPods.

“Christ, kid, how many of these do you have?” He shakes his head and holds them up. “Got anything on here we can use?”

“… the gray one.”

Buddy plugs in the earbuds and brings it over, then carefully places them in Baby’s ears. “Pick something we can dance to. Something I’ll recognize.”

Baby thinks back to dancing with Debora by the stream, and about Johnny Castle, and decides to lean into it. He holds his iPod up so Buddy can see his pick, and when he does, the man laughs.

“Alright, Baby. I can work with that.” Buddy goes to the speakers and taps at his phone. “On three, alright?”

They start the song at the same time and Buddy returns to Baby’s side, clasping their hands together and holding them up. “Love Is Strange” by Mickey & Sylvia begins to play, this time flowing into Baby’s ears as well as into the room. He’s not sure how, but it’s different like this. This time when Buddy leads, Baby follows. He keeps pace with Buddy perfectly, not missing a single step. When Baby starts to look down at his feet, Buddy taps at his temple gently.

“Don’t look down,” Baby sees him say. Baby nods, eyes moving to look at Buddy instead. It’s heady like that, staring into Buddy’s eyes, feeling where the skin of their hands meets. Soon enough Baby finds himself mouthing along to the lyrics, enjoying himself and actually feeling good at dancing for once. By the time they get to the break in the song, Baby feels like he did dancing with Debora, and he gets cocky.

“ _Sylvia…_ ” Baby mouths. Buddy grins at him, his eyes lighting up.

“ _Yes, Mickey?_ ” He mouths back. Baby’s heart jumps and he keeps his eyes on Buddy.

“ _How do you call your loverboy?_ ”

“ _Come ’ere loverboy!_ ” Buddy teases.

“ _And if he doesn’t answer?_ ” Baby asks, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Oh, loverboy!_ ” Buddy says, waggling his.

“ _And if he_ still _doesn’t answer?_ ”

“ _I simply say ––_ ” Buddy keeps singing along, leading Baby around the room by his hips. They dance close together, Buddy’s gaze flicking from Baby’s eyes down to his lips. He’s got a different look on than he did at the party, this one flirtatious and light. Baby looks at the sweat on his neck, at the way the muscles in his shoulders pull as he moves. The way Buddy looks at him now makes him feel delicious, like he’s something to be coveted and admired. The brevity Buddy had been giving him feels long gone. Their dance feels natural now, intimate, and Baby finds himself looking at Buddy’s lips more than his eyes.

By the time the song ends, they’re both breathless. Baby’s binder feels tight and makes him hot, so he pulls at his t-shirt and goes to stand by the fan. The room spins as he goes, though, so much so that Baby finds himself hitting the floor with a loud smack.

“Baby?” Buddy’s at his side in an instant, helping him up into a sitting position.

“I’m fine,” Baby says, pushing him away. “Just hot.”

“You’re overheated.”

“I’m fine,” Baby insists, but his voice is shaky. Binder horror stories crowd his head, and he starts pulling at his clothes, panic lancing through him.

“Fuck, I need –– I need –– ” he struggles out of his shirt and tosses it aside, while Buddy kneels nearby, confused. Baby tries to pull his binder off, now more concerned with being able to breathe than with whatever Buddy’s going to think. It’s too tight, though, and he can’t make it move. He feels that spike of panic again, and wonders if someone can get a heart attack like this. Then he feels Buddy’s hands brushing against his sides as the man grabs hold of the hem. Baby lifts his arms and Buddy pulls his binder up and over his head.

The relief is instant. Baby gasps in a few lungfuls of air and collapses onto his side, curling in on himself. His earbuds got tugged out with one of his layers, so he can hear Buddy walking around and the water running in the bathroom. He’s not sure what to expect, but it’s not the cool, damp towel that Buddy lays on his side, nor the bottle of water that he places next to Baby’s head.

As Baby catches his breath, he holds the towel over his chest and drinks from the bottle, back to the other man. His heart’s stopped pounding now, the panic subsiding into something more like that shaky feeling he gets post anxiety attack. He can tell that Buddy’s still in the room, but he doesn’t make any noise.

The music continues to play, low and quiet.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to wear those when you exercise.”

“You’re not,” Baby confirms.

“So why do you? Actually –– don’t answer that. I can figure that one out.” Buddy sounds resigned. Baby turns until he can grab his shirt, then pulls it on and drapes the towel over his shoulders.

“I don’t mean this as a critique, or anything, because it’s not my business,” Buddy continues, “But you could have told me.” Baby looks at him. He sits against the far wall, one leg stretched out in front of him, a concerned look on his face.

Baby comes over to sit beside him and crosses his legs. “I don’t really know you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t you?”

Baby’s eyes flicker across his face, taking in his stubble and his jaw, the way his eyes seem to jump back and forth between Baby’s, unable to decide on which to focus. Then Baby reaches up to touch the side of Buddy’s face, rising up on his knees to reach him. Buddy’s hand covers his own, his bracelets bumping against his skin. Cedarwood, Baby thinks. He can smell them sometimes, when they dance.

They’re so close, lips almost touching, until Baby shuts his eyes and presses their mouths together. Buddy makes a happy noise and reaches over to grab Baby by the hip. He draws him closer and up onto his lap, his hands holding him firmly. Baby dips his tongue into Buddy’s mouth as the man slots a leg between his thighs, but Buddy jerks back, knocking his head against the wall in the process. Baby feels the knee between his legs move as Buddy tries to move him off, and Baby’s stomach drops. He lurches up and away. He had thought Buddy was better than that.

“Baby –– ” Buddy starts, but Baby turns his back.

“Don’t.” The pit in Baby’s stomach grows, and the ringing that had been a distant hum starts to come back. He grabs his shoes from over by the door and starts to shove them on.

“Baby, please,” Buddy says, coming over to him. Baby takes a step back.

“I don’t like being played with, Buddy.”

“It’s not like that –– ” he starts, but Baby just shakes his head.

“Don’t follow me,” he says, and disappears out the door.

Baby roams the resort on autopilot, angry and hurt and buzzing with energy. He eventually finds himself down by the water, empty now that it’s evening. He rubs at his eyes and shakes his head, trying to clear it. He feels like an idiot, stupid for thinking Buddy was really interested. No wonder he had been so distant before, until deciding that maybe Baby would be some fun new thing to try. He feels sick.

Baby throws a rock into the water and thinks about the towel and water bottle Buddy had gotten for him. He hadn’t seemed skittish then. And Baby _knows_ what desire looks like. He didn’t imagine the way Buddy had looked at him –– at the party, on the floor, in the car. He hadn’t imagined that energy between them, even if Buddy had gotten cold feet. And, Baby thinks, it’s not like he had really stuck around to find answers.

Hoping to drown out the voice of doubt in his head that says he really shouldn’t go find Buddy right now, Baby turns his music up as high as it can go. It’s because of this that he doesn’t hear the pair of guys talking to him until one grabs his shoulder and spins him around.

“Are you fucking listening?” One of them asks, yanking Baby’s earbuds out. His buddy stands off to the side, smirking. They’re about Baby’s age, college boys, probably. The resort caters to more middle- and older-aged clientele, but Baby knows they drag their kids around sometimes too. These boys look like that, like they probably go to Dartmouth or something. He turns to go but Boy #2 blocks his way, grinning nastily. He can see his lips moving, but the ringing is getting too loud to concentrate. Baby turns again and keeps walking, hoping that they just go away. He only makes it a few steps before that hand is on his shoulder again. Panic rising, Baby ducks out from under it and just runs.

He books it across the lawn and up toward staff housing, taking the steps two at a time. Footsteps pound behind him, but he can barely hear them over the throb of blood in his ears. Baby reaches the top of the stairs just in time to be tackled down. He hits the dirt hard, nearly cracking his jaw against the ground as he lands. There’s a fire in his chest that he’s not sure he likes, something hot and new and quick. He’s angry and scared all at the same time, and Baby briefly wishes Buddy were there. Then his mind stops thinking full thoughts, filled now only with _run_ , _get away_ , and _they’re going to hurt you_.

Baby writhes against the arms holding him, struggling and kicking as hard as he can, and he gets a knee to the face for his trouble. His sunglasses crack, one of the lenses shattering out of it, and Baby tastes blood in his mouth. His foot connects with something fleshy and he hears a yell, but the hands don’t stop.

In a moment of clarity, when things seem to slow, it dawns on him that he’s probably not making it out of this as the winner. The thought makes him want to throw up, and he can feel his gorge rising. Then, almost against his will, he throws out an elbow and hits Boy #1 in the throat. The man falls back with a choked sound, leaving Baby to scrabble backwards like a crab. Boy #2 is right there, though, and starts to raise his leg. Baby moves faster and socks him right in the groin. The man cries out and bends over, down but not out.

Baby jumps to his feet, but is brought right back down by Boy #1 again. They grapple for a moment, the man’s hand coming up to grab at Baby’s face. He bites down onto it, causing the man to howl and shove him away. Baby lands on his back and looks up at the person towering over him. The look on his face is so angry that Baby thinks that maybe it’s not walking away from this at all.

Then Boy #2 crumples right in front of him, and in his wake stands Debora, a crowbar held aloft and a deer-in-headlights look on her face. Baby stares at her, thoroughly and completely caught off guard. She half-turns toward Boy #1, but he’s already stepping back with his hands up. Boy #2 scrambles to his feet and toward his friend, and they disappear back down the stairs. Debora tosses the crowbar aside and helps Baby to his feet.

“Are you okay?”

“Where did that come from?”

“My girlfriend left it in my truck,” Debora says, staring at the crowbar lying in the dirt. “I didn’t want someone to steal it so I was bringing it inside.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?” She repeats.

Baby nods. Then he turns and throws up into the bushes. When he turns back to Debora, she’s worrying at her lip with her teeth.

“I’m okay,” he says. “Really. Just freaked out.” She doesn’t believe him, and really neither does he. He can feel a bruise blooming on his face, and his mouth tastes like acid, but all he can think about is that that could have gone so, so much worse.

After a bit of minor convincing, Debora walks him to Buddy’s. She stands to the side while he knocks, her arms crossed against the growing chill of the evening. Buddy throws the door open, his expression going from one of shock to angry concern in seconds. He steps forward, his hands coming up to hover in front of Baby, like he’d like to reach out and touch, but won’t. He draws them back almost as quickly as he raised them.

“What happened?”

“Some boys attacked him,” Debora answers. Buddy’s jaw clenches and his voice turns hard.

“Why?”

Baby shrugs. He hadn’t heard what they’d said to him before, but it doesn’t take much to guess.

“Who?” Buddy asks next.

Baby shrugs again. He rests one of his hands on Buddy’s forearm. Buddy stares at it, long enough that Baby thinks he’s misread fucking _again_ , but then Buddy’s shoulders relax and he tentatively reaches up to cup the side of Baby’s face with his hand.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Baby nods and tells Deb that he’ll talk to her tomorrow. She gives him a firm look but nods, and turns away toward her building, crowbar in hand.

Inside Buddy’s apartment, Buddy guides Baby to a well-worn loveseat and disappears into the bathroom. He returns with a first-aid kit and kneels in front of Baby. He cleans him up gently, dabbing ointment on the bruise on his cheekbone and touching up his split lip. Then Buddy carefully removes Baby’s broken sunglasses and sets them on the end table.

“You want a drink?”

Baby nods. Buddy puts on some quiet music, something pretty and old. Baby listens to it while he surveys the room, noting the various stacks of records and books, even a few posters. Baby feels strangely calm, not like he would expect after being attacked.

He leans back and sticks his legs out, eyes straying to watch Buddy fix them drinks in his kitchenette. His sleeves are rolled up, showing thick forearms, and his shirt’s unbuttoned, revealing a sprinkle of hair on his chest. Baby taps his fingers along to the song and lets his mind wander.

“Here, Baby,” Buddy says, holding out an amber drink for him.

“What is it?”

Buddy grins. “It’s called a Baby Darling.” He sits next to him on the loveseat, arm extending over the back and leaning against the arm so they face each other. The drink is fine –– Baby’s not much for alcohol –– but it does dull the aches in his body. Buddy clears his throat and looks at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For earlier. I just… freaked myself out, I guess.”

“I’m not a freak.”

Buddy frowns at him. “I never said you were.”

“But you think it,” Baby says. He’s not sure where his bitterness came from, but it overwhelms him in an instant. “And I don’t want someone who thinks I’m a novelty.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Buddy’s face softens. “You didn’t think I stopped because you’re _trans_ , did you?”

“But, your knee was between my legs and I thought –– ”

Buddy shakes his head. “I stopped because you put your tongue in my mouth and things got a little too real a little too fast.”

“… oh.” Baby looks down at his drink.

“Look, Baby,” Buddy starts again. “I want you. I’ve had this stupid little crush on you for forever –– ” Baby’s heart spikes hearing that “ –– and I wasn’t going to do anything about it, but then Griff… ” Buddy trails off and looks out the window. Baby finishes his drink.

“I’m falling for you,” Buddy says firmly, turning to look Baby in the eyes. “And the only person I’ve ever really loved is Darling, so I got scared when you made a move. I’m not very good at being vulnerable, and I’m even less good communicating, but Baby –– I don’t want to fuck this up any more than I already have.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t talk to me at first?”

Buddy nods. “Thought that if I just got through the performance with you things would go back to normal.”

“You didn’t want to try?”

“I didn’t want to fail.”

“But when _I_ went after _you_ –– ”

“I panicked,” Buddy says, shrugging. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this that I didn’t know what to do. The knee part was just bad timing.”

Baby thinks about this. “I want you,” he decides. Buddy looks at him hopefully.

“Yeah?”

Baby nods. He sets his empty drink aside and moves to straddle the man’s hips, going slow so Buddy can stop him if he wants. He doesn’t, just raises his eyebrows and rests his hands on Baby’s thighs.

“Oh, like right now?”

“If that’s alright.”

“You were kind of just attacked, Baby. You sure you don’t want to have a rest?”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Baby says, dragging a finger down Buddy’s jaw. Baby thinks for a moment that Buddy’s going to stop him again, but the man just gets this glint in his eye. He surges forward and kisses him, his hands coming up to frame his face. Baby makes a surprised noise against Buddy’s mouth, then moans and closes his eyes, pressing into it. Buddy grins against his lips and slides his tongue into his mouth. Baby rolls his hips, eliciting a sound from the other man. Buddy’s hands move to Baby’s hips, spanning most of Baby’s waist and stomach.

“You’re so fucking tiny,” he growls,

“I like how big you are,” Baby breathes. Buddy laughs.

“Is that so?”

Baby nods, leaning in again. “I like your chest,” he says in between kisses. “And the way your arms move.” Buddy moans into his mouth and rocks their hips together again.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want you to fuck me.” Buddy wets his lip with the tip of his tongue, eyes flicking across Baby’s face and down his neck. Then he stands up and carries Baby to the bed, depositing him onto it with a squawk. Baby lets his knees fall open and watches as Buddy’s hands go to unbutton his shirt.

“Leave it on,” Baby says. Buddy raises an eyebrow. “Just for now.” Buddy drops his hands and kisses Baby again instead. His hands go to the hem of Baby’s shirt and tug it off, but he stops when he gets to Baby’s binder. His fingers brush the edge of it hesitantly. Baby grabs it and pulls it off himself, tossing it to the side somewhere.

“You don’t have to be so worried.”

“I don’t want to do the wrong thing,” Buddy admits. Baby smiles at him.

“I appreciate that, but you won’t.”

“Are there –– where is it okay to touch?”

“Everywhere,” Baby says, leaning back on his elbows. Buddy looks unconvinced. “I like my body,” Baby continues. “I _want_ you to touch it.”

“I can do that,” Buddy says, his voice rough. He runs his hands up Baby’s sides and doesn’t stop when he gets to his chest, leaning down to flick at one of Baby’s nipples with his tongue. Baby makes a pleased noise when Buddy starts to suckle, rolling the bud between his teeth every once in a while. Buddy makes to move to the other nipple, but Baby stops him.

“Get me wet,” he says. Buddy grins at him and drops to his knees. He tugs off Baby’s shorts and underwear and rubs his hands over Baby’s thighs, spreading them apart. Then he pauses, hands on Baby’s legs, and looks up.

“To be perfectly honest,” he says, “I haven’t been with anyone since Darling.”

“That’s okay,” Baby says. “You still want to, right?”

Buddy looks at him devilishly. “Trust me, Baby, I want to. Just bear with me if I’m a little rusty.”

With that, Buddy winks and buries his face in the boy’s cunt. Baby claps a hand over his mouth to hold back the noise he makes. If this is Buddy when he’s rusty, he wonders what he’s like when he’s not. His stubble drags deliciously against the tender inside of Baby’s thighs, and he pulls the hood of Baby’s cock back to suck him into his mouth. Baby presses his lips together and moans, threading his fingers through Buddy’s hair. He hears the man chuckle, so he squeezes the nape of his neck. Buddy retaliates by pressing a finger into Baby’s cunt and crooking it, causing him to keen and clutch at him.

Buddy keeps rubbing at that spot inside him, sending shocks of pleasure through Baby’s body. As Baby gets slicker, Buddy adds another finger, his other hand gripping Baby’s hip and squeezing hard. Buddy nurses the head of Baby’s cock, suckling like he did at his nipple. It’s too much, and Baby starts to come before he knows it. He bites down on his lip and bucks against Buddy’s hold on his hip. Buddy fingers him through it, easing off his cock and grinning up at him.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” The man says, tapping his finger against Baby’s hip. Baby nods. “You want me to be rough with you, sweetheart?” Buddy asks, standing up to grab hold of Baby’s jaw. Baby nods again. “Need to hear you say it, pretty thing.”

“Bruise me,” Baby whispers. “Please.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Buddy asks. He brushes a light finger across the bruise Baby already has on his cheek. 

“Buddy, _please_ ,” Baby whines. Not wasting any time, Buddy gives him a hard shove until he’s flat on his back. Then he strips out of his clothes and climbs onto the bed over Baby, his cock hard and wet already.

“How do you want this, babydoll?”

“Just fucking take me.”

“You want me to use you?”

“Please, Dadd–– Buddy,” Baby quickly corrects, feeling himself blush. Buddy tilts his head and drags a finger down Baby’s throat.

“Say it again,” he growls in Baby’s ear.

“ _Daddy_.”

“Good boy,” Buddy praises. “You want your earbuds?”

Baby pauses, but shakes his head. “Jus’ turn the music up.”

Buddy gets up off of him and goes to the stereo. “Anything in particular you want?”

Baby thinks about it. “‘Like A Hunger’,” he decides. “Wilma Archer and Amber Mark.”

“You got it, kid.” Buddy taps at his phone a few times, until Baby hears the opening notes of the song. He closes his eyes and hears Buddy walk back towards the bed, then rummage around in his nightstand. Baby feels the bed dip and he opens his eyes again, looking up at Buddy.

“You’re so handsome,” Baby says, a little absently. Buddy smiles at him.

“Thanks, darling. You’re absolutely stunning.” He kisses him gently, just once. “I’m gonna fuck you now, if that’s alright.” Baby nods and scoots down until he’s more comfortable. He watches Buddy roll the condom on and slick himself up, then lifts his legs to help him get into position. Buddy lines himself up and presses in, making Baby’s toes curl at the sensation. He tosses his head back and bites his lip, holding back a moan, but Buddy stops abruptly. Baby looks at him confusedly, a little put-out.

“I want to hear you,” Buddy says. “No more holding back, alright?” Baby nods, so Buddy hikes his legs up over his hips and startings pushing in again.

“Fuck,” Baby breathes, tossing his head back as Buddy bottoms out. He can feel the head of the man’s cock bumping against him, sending little sparks of sensation spiraling out from his core. He clenches around Buddy and grins when the man groans. Buddy pulls back a little, his cock dragging against Baby’s inner walls and making him gasp, then starts moving his hips, getting into rhythm with the song.

Buddy places his hand on Baby’s throat, just resting. “This alright?” He asks, his voice soft. Baby nods eagerly. He closes his eyes and loses himself to the sensation, just feeling and floating. Buddy starts to stroke his cock with his free hand, alternating rubbing circles at its base and brushing upwards with his thumb. Baby whines at the attention and wriggles, trying to press up into the touch.

“Daddy,” he manages. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea, doll.”

“’M not gonna last.”

“Do it, Baby, come for me,” Buddy says. He runs his hand down Baby’s chest and leaves it there, the other pinching at the head of Baby’s cock. Baby screws his eyes shut as he comes again, his body seizing up with pleasure. The feeling sends Buddy over the edge as well, and his hips stutter against Baby’s. The man sinks his teeth into the joint of Baby’s neck, right where it meets his shoulder, and Baby squeaks in surprise. He holds Buddy’s head there, urging him on, so the man bites down harder as he rocks his hips, milking the last waves of his orgasm.

They lie like that as they come down, just breathing against each other. Baby idly scritches the fuzzy hair on the back of Buddy’s head. The man sighs against him and laps a bit at the mark he’s left on Baby’s neck. Baby likes it, even though it reminds him of all the A/B/O porn he’s read.

Eventually Buddy pulls out and cleans them up, then shifts until they’re on their sides and facing each other. Baby mushes his face into Buddy’s chest and tosses one of his legs over the man’s hip. Buddy’s arms come around Baby, locking him in and holding him tight. After the high and the adrenaline, Baby’s mood crashes. He starts to cry, much to his embarrassment, but Buddy just holds him close.

“I thought they were going to kill me,” Baby says, his voice muffled. Buddy strokes a hand down his back, soothing.

“Well, they’ll never get the chance again,” he says. “Not if they want your friend to come back with her crowbar.”

Baby laughs wetly. “Debora,” he says. “And I did punch one of them in the dick.”

“That’s my Baby.” Buddy kisses him on the forehead. Slowly, Baby comes back down and his hitching, stilted crying tapers off. He nuzzles against Buddy’s chest and sighs, which makes Buddy chuckle.

“It’s alright, sweet thing,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

Baby wakes on his side, molded to Buddy’s back. It’s early morning, he thinks, if the weak light filtering in is anything to go by. He rubs the shaved part of Buddy’s hair and thinks about last night. Then he feels the rumble of Buddy’s chuckle and presses his face against the back of the man’s neck.

“Pony nose,” Baby mumbles.

“Pony nose?”

“’S what my mom used to call it. The shaved bit. Fuzzy, like a pony.”

Buddy shifts until they’re face-to-face and pillows an arm beneath his head, his other hand coming to rest on Baby’s bare hip. “You ever been riding, Baby?” Baby shakes his head. “I’ll take you sometime. Pretty different from a car, though.”

Baby smiles. “I think I’ll manage,” he says. Then, “How did you know that would work? Using my music like that, so I could dance.” Buddy shrugs against him.

“You’ve always got those earbuds in, so I figured you must be more used to dancing with that than out loud. Guess I was right.” Baby hums in agreement.

“Guess you were.”

“What’s your real name, Baby?” Buddy asks, dragging a finger down Baby’s lips.

“Baby.”

“Baby,” Buddy repeats, unconvinced.

“B-A-B-Y Baby,” he confirms. “Haven’t used any legal documents in years, so any others don’t really matter.” Baby’s eyes drop to Buddy’s chest, thinking. “But… I have always liked the name Miles.”

“Miles,” Buddy says back. “I like that.”

“You can still call me Baby.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want me to, babydoll. My real name’s Jason, by the way.”

Baby grins. “Jason,” he says, rolling it around on his tongue. Buddy grins at him.

“I like that drawl of yours, Baby,” he says, making him flush. Baby looks away, but Buddy grabs him by the chin. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” Baby says back.

“I wanna be your guy.”

“You wanna be my guy?”

Buddy’s face softens. “Yeah, Baby. You wanna be mine?” Baby nods eagerly. Buddy grins at him.

“Then it sounds like we have a plan.”


End file.
